The Orchid

Within an old book in my library
An Orchid dried and pressed I see
Without color and fragrance a mystery
Romantic notions overwhelming me

Who made this volume an orchid’s tomb?
Forever hidden in a dark room
Perhaps a ladies hand from a long past year
A memento of her handsome lover so dear

Was it given at a meeting with hearts that soar?
Or a last goodbye as he went to war
Or as they kissed in heavens light
Sharing their love in the blue of night

Are they still together him and her?
Holding hands at this very hour
Or are they passed no longer here?
Love dried and withered
like this orchid flower